


Healing

by jackiesjunkie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Drunk Fic, LiveJournal Prompt, i haven't written anything new so you're getting the old stuff, winchesters don't talk about emotions, winchesters drink their emotions, winchesters have emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 23:38:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17032104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackiesjunkie/pseuds/jackiesjunkie
Summary: For Livejournal drunk_fic Prompt 375Dean gets Sam drunk to ease the pain/grief/guilt/insert your own angsty emotion here.





	Healing

**Author's Note:**

> Written & originally posted on LJ: October 2006

From Season 2 Premier  
Sam – You were right.  
Dean – About what?  
Sam – About me and Dad. I'm sorry that the last time I was with him I tried to pick a fight. I'm sorry that I spent most of my life angry at him. I mean for all I know, he died thinking that I hate him. So you're right. What I'm doing now, it is too little. It's too late. I miss him, man and I feel guilty as hell. And I'm not all right. Not at all. But neither are you. That much I know. I'll let you get back to work.

......................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

Sam's words kept repeating in his head as Dean stared up at the night sky. He knew his brother was right but he wasn't ready to admit it out loud yet. The screen door creaked behind him. Dean turned to see Sam standing in the doorway. He could tell the younger man wanted to talk. Gritting his teeth, he turned, walked over to the battered olive green refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of beer. He glanced up at Sam. “Want one?”

“Sure,” Sam answered. He joined Dean at the end of the porch and accepted the bottle. He leaned against the railing but didn't meet Dean's gaze. All day the “if onlys” had been plaguing him. If only he had gotten to the hospital, if only they hadn't been hit by that semi, if only he had tried harder to get along with his dad, if only he hadn't been so hard-headed. If only... if only. “You know, I can't help but wonder if there was something I could have done different.”

“Sammy, don't. What's done is done. You did everything you could. You got me and Dad out of that house. Don't beat yourself up because the demon came after us again. There's no way you could have known what it was going to do.” He fell silent and began pacing the length of the enclosed porch. Dean knew they needed to talk. To deal with everything that had happened. But he wasn't sure how to deal with the feelings. So he did the only thing he could, he continued to drink.

Sam watched his older brother fighting to retain his cool facade. He knew better than to push Dean. Especially when it came to emotional matters. Dean was the strong silent type. He always had been. He didn't do that “girly emotional crap” like some guys. So he remained silent.

Hours passed as the two men avoided the one subject they sorely needed to deal with. Eventually, the alcohol they consumed began to dull their shared pain. As the night deepened, the brothers found themselves on the swing at the far end of the porch. Dean stared morosely at the wooden boards beneath their feet. Sam's gaze wandered aimlessly, never stopping to rest for more than a few moments at a time.

“I miss him. And I miss Mom. I don't want to talk about it, but you were right, Sammy. I'm not all right. But we'll get through this. We have to.”

Sam glanced over at Dean. His eyes were filled with pain and misery. His lip began to quiver slightly as he ducked his head again.

Dean couldn't help but feel bad for Sam. The kid had been through more than his share of hell on earth. He had no idea what to say so instead, he simply pulled Sam to him and held on. Maybe deluging themselves in a depressant like booze wasn't the smartest idea but Dean wasn't particularly worried about it. The two Winchesters clung to each other, seeking strength neither one had on their own. Silent tears soon gave way to muffled sobs as they let the grief work its way through them. No one was around to see, to judge, to criticize them. The healing was far from complete but they were one step closer.


End file.
